


A Drowning

by orphan_account



Category: Adam (2009), Amnesia: The Dark Descent, Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Ableist Language, Age Difference, Alternate Universe - Dark, Alternate Universe - Fusion, Alternate Universe - Victorian, Amnesia, Creepy Hannibal, Developing Relationship, Hallucinations, Hannibal is a Cannibal, Historical Inaccuracy, Immortality, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Memory Loss, Mind/Mood Altering Substances, Murder, Nightmares, Past Character Death, Sibling Rivalry, Someone Help Will Graham, Torture, Wendigo Hannibal, Young Will Graham
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-23
Updated: 2017-01-10
Packaged: 2018-09-01 15:09:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,026
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8629036
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Alien memories plague Will's dreams every night, distorted faces and places foreign to him. Yet how he ended up in the care of an enigmatic doctor, known to the public as Hannibal Lecter, lies within those muddled details inside his subconscious- and Hannibal doesn't want Will to put the puzzle together. Yet the results happen to bring them closer.





	1. x.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not dead, no pun intended if you saw my past activity on my tumblr
> 
> I've recently gotten into this show and I was watching a walkthrough of 'Amnesia: The Dark Descent' and it somehow fits these two in a way I can't really explain, but I had to write this in some form or another. There will be direct references to the game itself in this, just changed a bit to fit the story
> 
> Fair warning, I've watched 3 eps of the first season of 'Hannibal' before the website I used changed all the links to the point I couldn't watch so I feel kind of like a fish out of water. If their behavior is too OOC, please let me know. Chapters are short, apologies for that, but I hope they're satisfactory enough :)

_ “19th of August, 1839. _ _  
_ _ I wish I could ask you how much you remember. I don't know if there will be anything left after I consume this drink. Don't be afraid Will. I can't tell you why, but know this, I choose to forget. Try to find comfort and strength in that fact. There is a purpose. You are my final effort to put things right.  _

_ God willing, the name Dr. Hannibal Lecter still invokes bitter anger in you. If not, this will sound horrible. Find Hannibal and kill him while you still can. His body is old and weak, and yours, young and strong. He will be no match for you. What he has done to me is both damning and utterly abhorrent, using me to further his own agenda. There was a time that I trusted the doctor, my vulnerability and my fleeting sanity blinded me to the truth.  _

_ Redeem us all; me, you, and Adam. Descend into the darkness where Hannibal waits and murder him. His abstinence has left him withered- use the dagger to end it. Even immortals fall once they fade from the collective minds of their lackeys.  _ __  
_ Your former self, _ _  
_ __ Will Graham.”

Written 12 years ago to the day it was. All of these letters scattered about brings back sour memories, memories that Will made sure to lock away. The younger version of him would surely be disappointed in his decision not to ‘end it’, to put an end to all of the suffering and torment Hannibal put him through.

That bitter anger boiled down over the years, replaced with the feeling Will never thought he would experience: love.

To some it would sound abominable; not the idea that two men could share what a man and a woman could (although most would still clutch their pearls and spit in your face), but the idea of finding sympathy in a murderer, a  _ demon  _ hiding in the flesh of man. Figuratively or literally, Will could care less.

The letter, yellow and fragile from age, was the last the previous Will had written. That drink of Damascus rose did nothing to quell the desire in Will. It may have unraveled most of his adulthood, washed away the soul-eating guilt that latched itself on his heart, but it paved way for the metamorphosis.

The new Will watched that letter be reduced to nothing but soot in the fireplace of the bedroom. A sigh escaped him, the final thread that once connected his past burned away.

His movements were like a passing breeze and he was back in bed with his beloved, the day not yet breaking over the horizon. 

Hannibal said not a word as he wrapped his arms around Will, his eyes closed but with a ghost of a smile on his face.

The crackles and hisses of the fire was a comfortable background noise, the slow breathing of Hannibal more so. For once in his life, Will feels at peace. 

To be at peace was something he yearned to have for such a long time.

Will glanced to the mounted stag head above the fireplace, its mighty black antlers pointed and acting as tendrils in the glow of the bedroom. To its left was a single head of a younger stag with shorter antlers; not yet grown but with an air of determination, a will to live.

Will drifted to slumber and dreamt of that stag, in close proximity of its colossus of a mate, one with black fur and feathers of a raven. The ominous call of the ravenstag once struck fear in Will’s heart, like the siren that death was imminent. 

If only now it had the same effect.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> short lil introduction/prologue of what's about to come. Updates are sporadic if not lengthy gaps of waiting, it depends on my muse and/or motivation to write


	2. i.

_ Rumbling thunder was the first thing Will had heard. His head throbbed something horrible, his bones brittle and his stomach uneasy. His vision swam and the world seemed tipped; the cold stone floor he was laying on gave away the answer. _

_ A shaky breath passed through his mouth, followed by another. He was alive, he could feel his heart beating under his chest, the rush of blood running in his veins. A flash of lightning followed by the crack of thunder helped Will to his bare feet, body swaying and threatening to tip over. _

_ It was daytime where he was. Save for the storm raging outside, Will found stone floors and walls surrounding him. The windows were illuminated with lightning, casting shadows in the hallway Will found himself to be in. _

_ A simple nightgown he wore did nothing to shield him from the chill in the air, leaving him shivering like a newborn fawn, his teeth clacking against each other. _

_ From where he stood, Will noticed a trail of water; it acted like breadcrumbs.  _

_ With one foot forward, Will let his feet lead him on as he had no control. His disoriented state overpowered any sense of rationality in him, for he would not trust himself in following a seemingly innocent water trail. _

_ The trail led to another hall, this time lit with candles to give a more pleasing feel. A large Persian rug was spread along the stone floor; it was soaked with water.  _

_ A sudden gust of wind kicked up a heap of dust. Fright gripped Will’s heart enough for him to fall to his knees, the sight of such unexplained phenomena sending jolts of terror through him. _

_ Yet, even on his hands and knees, crawling like a babe, he followed. He had no idea why, he just felt the need to, like an invisible force beckoning him to continue. The trail went through another hall and up a stairway. The result was a large puddle in the middle of the hall, a single rose petal saturated in it. Will’s mind set itself right, his vision more clear than before. _

_ He can now comprehend his current situation.  _

_ Comprehension shifted to fear.   _

_ The candlelit corridor suddenly went dark with another forceful wind gust, the howl of the air sending the hairs on his neck on edge. Instead of wind pushing him down, a much stronger push slammed him to the ground. Will’s cry of pain was cut short by a painful burn in his lungs, his breathing coming out in desperate gasps of air. _

_ A heavy weight was on top of him, digging into his back and squeezing his throat. Will’s frantic clawing of the floor did nothing to help as his eyes begin to roll to the back of his head, his vocal chords cut off with whatever was around his neck. _

_ Before the world faded the black, Will managed to see something out of the corner of his eye; a figure in white. _

 

-

 

A gasp of air flooded Will’s lungs when he awoke, sending him into a coughing fit. Sitting up in an effort to find relief, Will clutched his chest to find that his heart was still beating, if not erratically. 

His body was drenched in sweat, his hair bogged down by it. Even his pillow was soaked.

Will caught his breath little by little, peering through his fingers to find that he was in a bedroom. The sun was out, sunrays warming the room. 

Will sat there in that bed and just… stared. 

The door came open and in stepped a man. Will did a double take and almost yelped, eyes wild and bleary.

“Ah, you’re awake.”

His words were a bit muffled by whatever accent he carried, his body standing tall and dressed in fine clothes, his ashy-blonde hair combed neatly. He strode over to sit on the edge of the bed, much to Will’s discomfort.

He continued to stare at the stranger, ready to run if he tried anything.

“What day is it?”

Will’s mind took a vacation, he had no idea what he was talking about. Here he was, in wet bed sheets and in an unfamiliar place, being asked what day it is.

“... I… I don’t know.”

Another cough rattled his bones. His voice was meek and dry. The man’s mouth twitched when Will wasn’t looking.

“Today is the 17th of May, 1838. Do you know where you are?”

“No…”

“In my home here in Dunster. Do you remember your name?”

The way he looked at Will, those squinted eyes working through the layers of the young man in front of him. It was unsettling. 

“My name… My name is…” Will felt his temples getting tight, his brows furrowed. It was on the tip of his tongue, he knows it.

“Will.”

The man gave the slightest, the  _ minute  _ tilt of his head.

“Will… Graham.”

The other man said nothing. Will made eye contact with him for a second before looking away, finally focusing on the intricate pattern of the green sheets.

“Good. Your memory is beginning to return.”

The look on Will’s face, the look of confusion and dismay, brought a tiny smile to the man.

“I found you out in Exmoor. You did not give a reason as to why you were there, but I persuaded you to come with me. I have been taking care of you for a few days now, you were suffering from a high fever. And from the looks of it…” He came forward to press a tender hand to Will’s forehead. Will tensed and clenched his eyes shut, not sure what to do in this situation. “It broke sometime last night.”

Whatever word on his tongue died in that moment, so Will opted for silence.

“I will have one of my servants draw you a bath.”

He wiped his hand clean of the perspiration with a handkerchief, one of fine thread. Will watched him leave, yet he still had so many questions. A sound rose from Will’s throat that caught his attention, slowly turning to face him. Will’s mouth hung open in slight surprise, at a loss for words for one moment.

“... What is your name?”

The man blinked.

“Hannibal. But people refer to me as Doctor Hannibal Lecter.”

 

-

 

The claw-footed tub was almost filled to the brim with steaming water, the bathroom a pristine white. A single painting hung near the tub, one Will had trouble recognizing. It depicted a man, a hunter it seemed like, was taken aback as he happened to walk in on a naked woman in the middle of her bath, other women also stunned.

It felt relevant in this situation.

Will, still feeling left out of something obvious, accepted that whatever happened to him was thwarted by the doctor and had it in him to nurse him back to health.

The nightgown pooled around Will’s ankles, his body riddled with gooseflesh from the exposure. He sat on the edge of the tub, dipping his fingers into the hot water and shivered. A nice hot bath was something he felt like he missed for a long time. 

His back faced the painting, the unblemished flesh glistening from the steam. Will’s unruly curls reached his shoulders, tangled and flat in some places where he slept.

Just as Will began to step in, a creeping sensation ran up his back. The hairs on his neck raised, his body rigid.

If Will was right, he felt as if someone was watching him. Somewhere in this room, something had eyes on him. Will managed to shake it off and fit himself into the tub, the water reaching up to his neck.

He glanced at the painting and swallowed any inhibition. He wished he remembered what happened before this, this is crazy. Will sunk under the water, eyes closed and breath still. Maybe if he comes up for air things will be set in its proper place.

Maybe this is all a dream.

The thought offered some comfort for him to rest on- for the moment. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> short first chapter, but any thoughts? I actually had a different intro written but found it to be too confusing so it's now the unofficial ending lol
> 
> the painting I was referring to was 'Actaeon Surprising Diana (Artemis) in the bath' by Titian; it was a random addition but I liked it. I don't know if I'll continue the painting metaphors or not tho
> 
> EDIT: just realized there's a bit of a historical inaccuracy with the claw-footed tub, they came in the late 19th century and this is set in the late 1830's, so whoops


	3. ii.

A set of clothing was waiting for Will in his designated room. A plain common shirt, some trousers, and undergarments. There was even a pair of shoes, in his size, for him to wear. It was impossible not to blush at the thought of the doctor surveying him in a more intimate detail.

Droplets of water ran down tendrils of hair and stained the cotton of his shirt. A little bit of water can do no harm.

The feeling of being watched faded as soon as Will started to prune up, his leisurely hour in the warm water throwing sense of time out the window.

Will, clean and dressed, now was faced with the task of finding something to do. Dr. Lecter only said for him to bathe, so what can he do now? The view from the window was exquisite, nothing but evergreen forests and mountains off in the far distance. As breathtaking as this is, Will noticed this space of nature looked rather… off. The trees were shaped in a way that they seemed to be from one of his fever dreams, ominous and encroaching with their spindly limbs and lack of fauna.

When the abrupt sensation of a hand clasped his shoulders Will swore he felt his soul leave his body. His vision doubled at how fast he spun, only to find a simple servant behind him, beady hazel eyes unfazed by his shock.

“Apologies, Mr. Graham, I knocked on the door but you did not answer. My master has made lunch for you and would like for you to eat, to gather your strength.”

He gave a wide smile, his teeth aligned and more white than Will’s shirt. Somehow this gave Will a sense of eeriness. Nevertheless he followed, otherwise eager to have something to eat. Once again the servant gave an unsettling smile, teeth flashing like fangs ready to rip flesh.

Will looked away quickly.

 

-

 

It dawned on Will that this was a castle. Almost every square inch was covered in stone and sparsely decorated with foreign banners, paintings, statues, and furniture. Dr. Lecter must have come from a wealthy lineage to acquire items such as these.

The dining hall was of a moderate size, the table set with fine dishes and centerpieces of exotic fruits and flowers.

The servant, whose name Will learned to be Charles, pulled out his seat at the end of the table.

With a smile of course.

“My master will be out presently.”

And with that, Charles left Will to his own devices. Rigid in his chair, Will wondered if he was allowed to even breathe. Everything in the room was so immaculate it could all turn to dust if Will coughed. The silverware was set straight, the chairs in perfect symmetry, the flowers and fruits as fresh as they were plucked from their stems.

And here was Will, as broken as a teacup.

Despite being in a strange place with equally strange people, the most horrifying is that he can’t even remember how old he is or where he was born. How can he forget so much during one case of fever?

“I see Charles managed to lead you here in one piece.”

Dr. Lecter’s smooth voice broke through Will’s unpleasant reverie, stepping out from the shadows with a silver platter held in his hands. Will paid no mind to the comment the doctor made and watched him practically glide over to him, his footsteps as light as a cat. Will caught the aroma permeating from the platter and couldn’t help but imagine what complex but delicious dish the doctor whipped up.

“Something light for the stomach; chicken soup with fermented cabbage, garlic and ginger, and a cup of basil tea. The tea will help you relax and the soup will help your strength for any future infections.”

The steaming bowl laid out in front of Will was not what he envisioned. The doctor took his seat at the other end of the table, sitting with his shoulders squared and his back straight in contrast of Will’s slouched figure.

A good minute passed by and neither made a move.

“Is something wrong Will?”

Will hunched his shoulders to curl in on himself, shaking his head. His eyes met the doctor’s and noticed how fixated they were set on him.

“No, sir… Thank you.”

Unsteady blue eyes settled back on the soup as Will began to eat. He held back his reaction for the sake of courtesy, but the soup tasted like heaven. The doctor noticed.

“I am very careful about what I put into my body, which means I end up preparing most meals myself.”

Will raised his eyebrows, “You made this yourself? I thought your servants-”

“I take it upon myself to cook all of my meals.” Will stared at him for a moment. “While I value their servitude and appreciate their efforts, my trust can only run so far. And, for the most part, I know how I enjoy my food.”

Will nodded, leaning down to shovel spoonfuls of the soup into his mouth, careful not to let the broth stain the table. Dr. Lecter continued to watch him eat, as silent as the statues of armor in his halls.

“Not fond of eye contact, are you?”

Dr. Lecter had the slightest hint of a smile on his face. It was teasing in nature which earned him a short frown from his guest.

“I find that eyes are too distracting, you either see too much or not enough.”

A flicker of soft blue met Dr. Lecter before returning to their original place- looking down. To many, including the doctor, would find that rude. Yet Will is different, he will admit that.

“A very interesting way to put it.”

“If you want to see it that way.”

Silence fell over the table once more, the only sound was the clinking and scraping coming from Will. Will made an effort to survey his surroundings, taking note of every small detail of the walls and decor. What really caught his attention was the mounted head of a stag above the fireplace, staring forever into empty space. The head dwarfed Will’s own and its antlers ready to pierce through his body, thick and sharp.

Will exhaled quietly, drinking the last drops of his tea. The chicken soup was no more, just a bit of broth and seasoning submerged to the bottom.

A servant, seemingly popping up out of nowhere, came to retrieve Will’s empty dishes, her dark brown hair pulled back and held together with her service cap.

“Thank you, Dr. Lecter, it was delicious.”

Will broke through the awkward silence between them, receiving a smile from the latter.

“It was my pleasure. And call me ‘Hannibal’, for the sake of saving your breath.”

Will flushed but nodded.

“Now that you are regaining your strength, I wish to give you a proper tour of my home, to get you more acquainted.”

Hannibal sat up from his chair and beckoned Will to follow, waiting patiently for his guest to obey. They were roughly the same height with Will being at least two inches shorter, but he was smaller size wise- considerably so. For being so young, his body size was not up to par to most young men his age.

Hannibal would change that in time.

They walked in silence to wherever Hannibal was going, the halls lit with both artificial and natural lighting, the stained glass windows coloring the walls in soft hues of red and purple.

“Forgive me, but what exactly did you practice?”

Hannibal slowed his pace for the two to walk side-by-side, hands lax against his legs and eyes focused.

“I was once in the field of psychiatry before I left. I worked at Bedlam in London for a good while before I retired.”

“So why do people still call you ‘doctor’?”

Will hoped he was staying in the boundaries, offending the man who offered him shelter could land him back where he came from.

“I offer my services when needed- as a medical doctor. If someone is sick or in need of emergency care, I bring them here for them to heal. My reputation is of good standing, so don’t think you’re in the company of a psychopath.”

It was a joke nonetheless, but Will grew flustered. Passing down one hall led to many different rooms, rooms that seem to be in disuse now. There was a painting in one of them, one that Will deemed odd.

With its claustrophobic architecture, the painting's only light source was a barred window high up on the wall. The figures were distinct characters, all engaged in grotesque and pitiable behaviour, all the while abandoning the need for clothing.

Will brought his arms to his middle in a way to soothe the uneasiness settling in his stomach. The painting gave a vibe of uncertainty in him, not like the other painting in the bathroom.

“Are you coming, Will?”

Hannibal was already down the hall looking back to the younger man, his figure shaded by the window behind him and giving him the appearance of a dreamy silhouette, his dark suit creating a contrast with the aura of light surrounding him. It was almost symbolic.

Will took one last glance to that painting before leaving out of the room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the flow could be better, but sorry for the lack of dialogue mostly. But things will pick up soon, like really soon the way I have it planned out. Any thoughts so far? 
> 
> the painting at the end of this chap is 'The Madhouse (Casa de locos)' or 'Asylum (Manicomio)' by Francisco de Goya


	4. iii.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> of course, the delay was unexpected. I've been moving and shaking a lot this past holiday/New Year's, and I didn't have enough time to write updates for my fics. But I hope this is satisfactory bc this could be better, the flow is off and it's bugging me

By the time the sun fell from its peak Hannibal had showed Will most of his home. Everything was the same dark color; cold grays, warm browns and rich reds that resembled blood more than anything else. Hannibal pointed out his vast collection of books in his great library. There were so many books there were bookshelves built into the walls to house them all, attainable by a simple ladder.

“Impressed are you?”

Hannibal stood in the background as Will took in the amount of books, books ranging from novels to encyclopedias, thin books, thick books, books kept in glass cases. There were even some shriveled pieces of paper safely enclosed in their case, the ink still visible for Will to make out the words.

“I’ve never seen so many books in one place before. This is quite…”

“Fascinating?”

Will wanted to reach out and feel the spines, afraid that he might ruin their authenticity if he did. He just settled to gaze in awe, tilting his head back to further drink in the world of books, his curls dropping from his shoulders to fall on his back.

“Did you have a collection of books once?”

Will’s ears caught the question, but his brain couldn’t seem to process it. His memory is still pretty much in the dark, not even a faint candle glow of one event that defined him as a person made itself known.

“I don’t believe I did. If I did they remained untouched.”

Hannibal’s presence crept up behind Will before he knew it, his muscles seizing. 

“Do books disinterest you?”

Will never flinched when Hannibal stepped even closer, the subtle scent of spices and wood tickling his nose. Will glanced from the corner of eye at how Hannibal stood beside him, hands clasped behind his back and his face in a constant state of composure. 

“Not so much as a disinterest, I just find them… unique. A story is being played out on paper, yet I’m supposed to imagine the scene and create faces for these people. It’s a universe in itself with its own heavenly bodies and celestial beings. To wonder how someone could create such a universe is beyond my comprehension of thinking.”

Will hadn’t realized that he was staring at Hannibal, the latter looking right back with a thoughtful scrutiny. The silence between them stretched for what seemed like an eternity before Hannibal broke their gazing session to stare at his massive collection.

“If books are universes, then their creator is their God. Yet in a metaphorical sense, we’re our own Gods crafting our own universes, our stories having been edited and scrapped even before our first breath. Our design is unique.”

Hannibal took a few steps back from Will’s side, and in one swift motion, leaned in to delicately sniff his tangled mess of hair before Will even registered his movement.

It took a few seconds for it to sink in. Will, eyes squinted, turned to face him.

“Did you just smell me?”

Instead of embarrassment or surprise, the doctor smiled with an air of confidence and a hint of smugness.

“It’s about time for dinner. Care to join me?”

Hannibal didn’t wait for Will’s response, he just casually left as if this had never happened.

Will, standing shocked and a bit lost, ultimately followed him. Just before he left, yet another painting caught his attention. It was a girl, a young girl with long golden hair and a round face, a crown of flowers circling her head.

She was watching him.

 

-

 

Dinner consisted of another light meal for Will, the same being said for Hannibal. 

“It would be rude of me to eat something more rich and not share the spoils,” he explained, yet he did pour himself a glass of red wine. Will offered a small smile in return, glancing down at the plate of what appeared to be boiled chicken breast with a mix of greens. However bland it seemed, the flavor still showed.

“Does this compare to what you’ve eaten in America?”

From the frown of confusion on Will’s face Hannibal was quick to interject.

“Judging from your accent I can tell you’re not from here. And if I’m correct you have a slight southern American dialect that tends to slip through your speech.”

Will was left silent. How could he know all of that? This is only leaving more questions than answers for Will to keep up with.

“Well… you’re not from here either. Your servants speak strangely.”

“That would be the British English accent, Will. Some speak in another accent entirely, but it’s still considered British English. For me, I am from Lithuania.”

All of this was beginning to take a toll on Will- and it was beginning to show on his face. All of this information was difficult to process since half of his collective memory had been reduced to ash. His food began to grow lukewarm, only half of it consumed.

“Is everything alright, Will? The color drains from your cheeks.”

As if there was any there to start with. The room felt much smaller than before, more warm than normal.

“I think I need to lie down,” Will managed to speak, tongue suddenly going dry, “my head hurts.”

“Say no more.”

Hannibal personally escorted Will to his room, one hand wrapped around his waist and the other gently holding Will’s hand for guidance. The rest of the journey there fell into a blur for Will, his head feeling it was being split in two. The next sensation he felt was something cool and soft, followed by a spread of warmth covering his body.

He could barely keep his eyes open but he made out Hannibal’s figure in the encroaching darkness of his vision. The last thing he heard before he fell into that deep pit of nothingness was:

“I’ll be here when you wake. Do not fear, Will, they won’t harm you.”

Whatever he meant by that definitely didn’t sound assuring.

 

-

 

_ The howling wind was the only thing that had awoken Will. He was back at this place, the castle with the endless hallways and a million and one staircases.  _ _ It shocked Will, making him leap up without any care for his aching head. The thunder had stopped, leaving the pitter-patter of leaking rainwater behind.  _ _ Will pushed himself up onto his feet, the room momentarily shifting sideways. Will took a good look around and released a breath. It was like he was going nowhere but up; and even that lead to no results. _

_ The only thing that was obviously missing was that figure in white. That was something Will vividly remembered. He missed what that person, or thing, looked like, but it was there, right in the corner of his eye. _

_ Will had no intention to keep moving forward, instead, with as much clarity as he could muster, went backwards and retraced his steps. Maybe he overlooked something. Or maybe this place isn’t real. _

_ Turns out he did happen to overlook something; a large and tall wooden door that would’ve been impossible to miss. Even without the presence of someone Will still managed to blush at this oversight. _

_ With a deep breath, Will grabbed onto the thick latch and pulled, the door groaning out and creaking as if it could fall apart at any given moment. _

_ Will opened it just enough for his body to slip through before the door slammed shut behind him, cutting off any access where Will had began. _

_ The roof had collapsed, leaving a hole for fresh air to filter through with a heavy scent of rain. Stone columns had fallen, even a stone staircase had fell to ruin. Everything was carved and crafted out of stone, save for the windows, leaving a tenebrous atmosphere. _

_ There was a staircase descending downward, leading to a single door Will didn’t feel like touching. He stood in the halo of light, the water dripping around him to form a ring. The clouds weren’t as heavy, yet the sun was still hidden. Will doubts that if he could shout for help someone could hear him. _

_ To his left there was a hallway that led to another large door- that must be the entrance. Will’s heart actually skipped a beat out of hope, out of the possiblity that he could leave this place. _

_ His feet slapped against the floor as he ran, eager hands gripping the door handles just waiting to rip them open. _

_ Hope quickly turned to terror when the castle began to tremble. Trembling turned to rumbling as a hellish scream echoed throughout. To even further damage Will’s psyche the doors were slowly being blocked by a fleshy substance, trapping Will with nowhere else for him to go. _

_ Will was helpless to do anything. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t get rid of this mass. It hardened itself like the stone surrounding him. Now the fear he felt before was truly beginning to sink in, it was looking as if he couldn’t leave this place. _

_ This castle could be his death.  _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> painting I referred to is 'Portrait of a Youth Crowned with Flowers' by Giovanni Antonio Boltraffio


End file.
